


Of Calculus, Stalking and Soccer Players

by VenusTheMarvelTurtle



Category: Guardians of Childhood - William Joyce, Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: AU-highschool, Adorable Jack, Bunny Is Oblivious, Butchering of Aussie slang, Disabilities, Fluffy, Homophobia, Hospitals, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Jack Whump, Jack you Stalker, Jack's mom and sister, Jamie and Sophie are little shits, Light Angst, M/M, Pining, Sandy is a little shit, Surprise Pairing, Tooth Ships it, anemia, light slash, pitch is an ass
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-27
Updated: 2016-01-03
Packaged: 2018-05-03 05:04:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5277737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VenusTheMarvelTurtle/pseuds/VenusTheMarvelTurtle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Another cheesy and cliche high school AU, but I couldn't resist. </p><p>Trying out for the soccer team to oogle your super hot, extremely foreign crush (even when you're pale and weird and scrawny with NO ATHLETIC TALENT  WHATSOEVER) totally doesn't classify as stalking, and that's the story Jack Overland is sticking to, shut UP Tooth.</p><p>He didn't factor in actually making the team, and having to wear those little blue shorts, or being good at calculus, which somehow makes everything so much worse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Plan

"So...I'm thinking about _maybe_ trying out for the soccer team?"

Except the word "team" never made it out all the way, because as soon as "soccer" hit the air, Jack and the other two misfits currently seated by the back wall near the school parking lot for lunch were jumping back with disgusted exclamations as Nicholas North treated them all to a very juicy, dramatic spit take worthy of a Nick@Nite laugh reel. 

"What the hell, man?!" Jack yelped, frantically brushing red droplets of whatever weird, Russian tomato drink North was guzzling off of his uniform standard blue polo, which did _wonders_ for his clammy complexion (or not).

Sandy signed something slightly more violent and pushed his now juice-soaked sandwich away with a disgusted grimace, while Toothiana tried to resuscitate her choking boyfriend by slamming her tiny fists into his shoulder blades.

"Jack," she started, between North's gags, "that's, um... sudden. I didn't know you even liked soccer, or anything involving...exercise. Breathe, Nicky, just breathe-"

Jack shrugged and made a conscious effort to keep his cheeks from broadcasting his feelings all over his face. "I dunno. I mean, I'm a senior and I haven't done anything important yet."

Sandy snickered silently, prompting Jack to shoot him a sour glare fraught with threats, danger, bribery, and a sprinkling of desperation. 

North finally caught his breath and glanced first at the mute blond, then at Jack. "What? What is funny about Jack volunteering for death?"

Jack bristled, stunned by the lack of faith from the three people he expected to support him. "Aren't friends supposed to like, back each other up, and all that high school musical crap? You're kind of failing at it right now."

"Its not that, Jack," Tooth soothed patiently. "But you've never played soccer before-"

"Not true!" Jack interjected. "I did play once, for a little while-"

"That was first grade PAL, everybody got trophy and coupon for Chuck E Cheese at the end. Doesn't count." North informed him. Sandy nodded in agreement, and Jack sighed, genuinely hurt. 

"What, you guys don't think I could cut it?"

"Jack, have you seen them practice? It's like boot camp. It's freaking brutal," Tooth said with a delicate shiver. That at least was true. Their school's basketball and football teams were practical jokes played on the district by Administration, and going to a swim match was like watching the low budget version of Finding Nemo without the happy ending.

The soccer team was the only saving grace, and they trained like Marines to maintain their rep and their record.

"It probably just looks bad from the outside," Jack reasoned hopefully. "I'm  _anemic_ , not stage four leukemic. My mom's been pushing me to get involved in... stuff, anyway."

That was true too, at least partway. Who said having the ability to be cold in 89 degree weather meant you couldn't kick a stupid ball into a net?

Sandy giggled with his body again, drawing all eyes to his side of the table. "What, Sandy?" Tooth questioned.

"Shut up shut up shut _uuup_!" Jack whined. He knew what the mute boy was laughing about, and he regretted ever telling Sandy anything. He hadn't meant to do it anyway- they'd been having a heated discussion about which country produced the best looking people and his secret just sort of slipped out, but he'd figured at the time that the guy couldn't talk, so what was the harm?

Plenty, obviously.

Sandy ignored him and started to sign, struggling to get the words formed past the obstacle of Jack's waving hands.

' _That's not the only thing he wants to get *involved* in.'_ It must have been hard to put a sarcastic emphasis on sign language, but Sandy managed it with a cruel flair that Jack had to respect him for. 

"What... Ohhhh," Tooth looked stumped for a second herself, then Sandy stuck two fingers up behind his head, and she smirked.

Sandy broke into laughter again, ignoring Jack's wounded and betrayed gaze. "I hate you, Sanderson Mansnoozie." he said earnestly. "So, so very much."

Only North still looked confused, blinking around at all of them with a blank expression. "What? What am I missing?"

"Jack," Tooth crooned, reaching across the table to pat his hand. "Does this sudden interest in soccer have anything to do with _E.A.B_?" She stressed the syllables through her teeth like chewing gum and cocked a sharp, perfectly arched brow towards her hairline.

Vesuvius had nothing on the sudden explosion of lava like color that filled Jack's face- he could have destroyed Pompeii twice over. "No," he snapped, snatching away from Tooth's fingers and crossing his arms childishly. "No, this has absolutely NOTHING to do with that and everything to do with me trying to be an upstanding individual in this school, and you're gonna stop looking at me like that or I swear I'm gonna sneak in your house and inject caramel sauce in your toothpaste-"

Sandy was quietly dying from laughter induced asphyxia, but North was _still_ behind. Not surprising- he had a hard time understanding subtleties, even after fourteen years in America.

He mouthed  _E.A.B_  to himself and furrowed his considerably black bear esque eyebrows (seriously, he should avoid woodland areas during springtime, especially when he was trying to be sexy and give them a wiggle, UGH) and finally turned to Tooth for help. "Eh?"

The small girl's smile had grown in lechery and satisfaction until it swallowed her petite features and turned her into the picture of evil, elvish glee. "You have the physics track this year, so you wouldn't know him. But E.A.B stands for E. Aster Bunnym-"

 _"Sssshhh-sh!_ " Jack hissed, flapping hysterically in her direction and simultaneously checking over his shoulder to make sure no one remotely popular or involved in the Journalism club was lurking nearby.

Doubtful they'd really care, but hey, you never knew who was waiting for a chance to ruin someone's life for the benefit of their own.

"Are you kidding me Jack?" Tooth huffed, giving her violet eyes a hard roll. "Everyone's in love with him. Literally, EVERYONE. It's the worst kept secret since the Balogna Bandit crisis."

"Ah, I see. So Jack has crush on this E. Aster?" North asked bluntly.

"No!" Jack yipped desperately. "I mean, I mean he's cute or whatever, and muscely, if you like that kind of thing, but-"

"Head over heels," Tooth cut him off sympathetically, Sandy just managing to keep a straight face as he mimicked her solemn air.

"I am not, and I've never worn heels in my life." Jack muttered.

Also true, but a not so tiny voice somewhere not so deep down inside him vowed with absolute certainty that he'd wear the highest, pointiest, most ridiculous Louis Vuittons in his aunt's closet and walk the whole track twice just to get a close up whiff of the sun kissed locks that had been torturing him in B Calculus for three months straight, just inches in front of him, every day.

_And the wrap dress?_

Yup.

_What about the foundation from MK?_

Definetly.

Because E. Aster Bunnymund, or E.A.B, as he'd asked to be called, was the closest thing their school had to a movie star, at least physically. The boy was painfully attractive with the added bonus of being near totally, blissfully oblivious to it, effectively keeping him from turning into a major dick.

All of Jack's friends- three of them, amazing right?- had known he swung the way of the Y chromosome after an anticlimactic coming out during junior year (" _Are you trying to say you're gay? Oh, we already knew, you bite through your lip every time Taylor Lautner touches his collar in New Moon. It's fine Jack, honestly. Are you going to eat that cookie? Your mom makes the best oatmeal chocolate chip.")_ Instant, undying acceptance with an awkward period that had been non existent and made him realize why he'd stuck with these people for most of his life.

It hadn't been relevant before now, seeing as their school had a much higher lesbian to gay ratio of about two to one, him being the one. Some of the larger bruisers possessed Freudian type repressed homosexual symptoms, mainly picking with any male twenty pounds lighter than themselves for shits and giggles. 

Basically, no one had ever attracted Jack's attention to the point of him even wondering if they shared his preference or not, or caring.

Then, smack dab in the middle of October, the door to his math class had flung open and he suddenly started to care. Like, a lot. Enough to consider joining the psychotic soccer team, in any case. 

"Jack," Tooth demanded, cutting off his internal monologue as she often did. She squinted at him intently and pointed her chin like she meant business. As she often did. "Look me in the eye, and tell me that this has ABSOLUTELY NOTHING to do with E.A.B."

_Oh God, the look. Not the look. Anything but the Toothiana look. Be strong, Overland, you can do this, you can-_

_"Jack."_

_Damn._ He never could lie in the face of the Look. It was absolutely lethal. 

Jack groaned and dropped his head to the table with a hard clunk, conceding defeat. He didn't know why he thought he could get anything past them. Maybe on some weird reverse psychological level he'd brought it up hoping they'd figure it out and offer their two cents, and possibly talk him out of it. "You guys must think I'm some kind of desperate stalker." he mumbled.

North smiled. "Is okay, Jack. Everybody has stalked someone sometime. Back in Mother Russia-"

Sandy clapped his hands over his ears and keened soundlessly. ' _Jesus, not another Mother Russia story, please,'_ he signed rapidly.  

"What? I thought you liked my stories-"

"Jack," Tooth said, "whatever you do, you know we'll support you. But sweetie, you don't even know if he's...like that."

"I'm not trying to date him or anything." Jack protested. He gave up on trying to convince them that he wasn't doing this to get closer to his unattainable eye candy. "I'll just join the team, get a few peeks of him in the locker room to jerk off to later, and graduate without a _completely_ blank extra curricular record." It sounded like an even more pathetic plan once it left his brain and came out of his mouth, but there it was, in a nutshell.

Tooth sighed and ran a hand through her multicolored pixie clipped hair. "Well, if you're sure. The last day for soccer signups is today after school in the Athletics office."

Jack felt a thrill of panic ripple through his gut. "I can't do that, I have to leave directly after the bell. I'm getting blood work done today." Was his creepy plan failing before it even began?

Tooth waved a hand at him and pulled her phone out of one of the many, many pockets in her purple and green windbreaker. "Relax, I'll just text Tulio's brother Miguel and ask if he can add your name to the list. He's on the team and he owes me a major favour."

 _'What kind of favour?'_ Sandy asked. Jack perked up at that, happy to have the conversation shifted away from his stalker plot. It was a good question- Miguel was a known skirt chaser (see: EPIC MANWHORE), with a love for what he couldn't have. Including Tooth, who he'd been flirting with non stop even after North entered the equation in Sophomore year. 

It wasn't a regular week at Burgess High unless Miguel's girlfriend Chell ended a day storming through the halls, looking to murder her boyfriend or his newest sideline, or whichever she came upon first. The girl was a real showstopper.

Tooth snorted and started jabbing her thumb at the screen. "Chell was going to remove his molars, and I prevented it. Let's leave it at that."

"You have Miguel's number?!" North yelped.

Tooth didn't even look up. "Hm?" 

Her phone chimed, and she grinned. "See? Done. This Friday at 3:20." The bell signaling the end of lunch began to ring, and they all started gathering their belongings.

"Thanks, Tooth." Jack breathed, relieved. "I owe you one."

"You owe me like thirty at this point, Overland." she shot back. Her eyes softened and she moved around the table to squeeze his arm affectionately. "Seriously Jack, be careful. I don't want you getting hurt."

Jack smiled wryly. "I'll make sure I never get the ball, then."

She pinched him, and hot  _damn_ , did Ulta Beauty make diamond nail files? Anything painted that pretty shade of lavender had no right to be that sharp. "That's not what I meant, jerk face."

"I know what you meant, Tooth, seriously. It's not like that. I'm not expecting any miracles." Jack told her honestly. "But thanks." He grabbed his bookbag and slung it over his shoulder, jittery with giddiness and nerves, and they all started the short trek back to the building.

"Toothiana, _Miguel_?!"

"Oh, sweet Christ."

Jack, who normally would have commented on North's paranoia induced overreaction, was silent, struck dumb by the realization that his next class was indeed, Calculus B, or as he liked to think of it, Jack's Happy Time, and The Best Forty Five Minutes Of His Miserable School Day.

_Creep powers, activaaaate!_


	2. The Crush

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Erm, pardon last chapter, I mixed up Tulio and Miguel personality wise XD. It's been a while since I watched RTED, but I think I recall MIGUEL being the woman chaser. I've fixed it now. Also, edits made for clarity. Sorry, I'm a notorious re editor.
> 
> Bunny's character might seem a little flat now, but that's because Jack doesn't know him yet. In my mind and pre-planned chapters he's deep asf.

_Oh Calculus B, how do I love thee? Let me count the ways._

Or something like that. He was paraphrasing. English wasn't his strongest suit.

Thirty minutes into classtime and Jack had long since stopped paying attention to Miss Womble's too shiny, too-perfect-for-a-teacher hairdo bounce back and forth in front of the smart board, her hair easily the second most excited thing in the room bedsides the woman herself as she guided them through the amazing world of _Irrational Functional Equations._

She was like...like a warrior of knowledge, slashing problems with her dry erase marker sword, red faced and loosing her battle cry of **CORRECTAMUNDO**! for every brave student that volunteered a right answer.

Outside of his overactive imagination, Jack really liked Miss Womble. She was one of those rare combinations of young, fun teacher with no filter and less tolerance for nonsense than Severus Snape. She'd also gone to college with his mother, so she was more like an aunt to him than an instructor.

Him being a quiet type of kid with a 142% in her class meant the feeling was very mutual, and it also meant that he could complete his English Lit homework while she baby stepped the rest of them through the lesson.

He'd done the class exercises and the home practice in a snap. Math had always been easy for him, the way the numbers lined up and split and came back together over and over again, different yet always the same, perfect and orderly like the points of a snowflake...

Judging from the groans and complaints of the other kids though, he was pretty much the only one that saw it like that.

 _"_ Ugh, crikey. Give us a break here, Teach."

Jack glanced up from his analysis of Sonnet 75 at the same time Miss Womble spun on her shiny red heel and radared the room with a steely gaze, landing on the seat directly in front of Jack, and the student that occupied it. "You have some sort of problem with the pace I'm moving at, Aster?"

The boy in front of Jack tilted his head slightly. The sides of his face tightened, and Jack just _knew_ he was grinning at her. He could practically see it, just the right mix of cocky and winning, front teeth just a bit longer than would typically be considered "handsome" but somehow that only made it better. That thick Aussie brogue accompanied it again, and Jack's poor heart gave a twist that could have passed for cardiac arrest.

"Nah, Mizzus doubleya. 'Pologies fer disruptin'. Love ya, though."

_Oh, dear God. Why. Why do you have to sound like young Hugh Jackman._

Miss Womble's lips twitched like she was trying to hide a smile. When Tooth said everyone loved E.A.B, she wasn't lying. That statement included teachers too.

He could probably set the place on fire, kill the janitor, key every car in the parking lot with his initials, and only get off with a warning.

Jack stuck his pen in his mouth and chomped on it longingly, his toes curling in his battered navy blue one stars as he watched the perpetually sun -darkened neck in front of him roll and stretch as Aster looked back down at his work.

It wasn't a perfect view, but it was one he'd scratched and clawed and bled for (metaphorically, anyway, but people often underestimated the cutthroat politics of seating arrangements in high school, and just how coveted a seat behind a hot boy was.)

Speaking of which...

Hot _damn_ , but he was cute. Jack remembered the very day Aster walked into the school. Usually new kids were scoped out before they even hit the threshold, one of the advantages of Burgess being a relatively small place.

But Aster had come to town in the middle of a Monday and been stuck in the office all day with transfer procedures, so nobody had seen him. 

When he heard that the new kid was from Australia, Jack had envisioned a miniature Steve Irwin in the making, somebody with greasy blonde hair who was always excited and had a pet anaconda, obsessed with creepy things like giant spiders and the effect of venom on human nerve tissue.

Had that been nationality-...ist? Country-ist? Probably. But he was from Virginia, and the only experience with Australia he had was from an old copy of _Kangaroo Jack,_ so give him a break. 

The real thing couldn't have been further from the truth. Every single person had been stunned by the _WTF OOH YUMMY_ factor of the teen that walked through the door that fateful day two weeks before Halloween.

Jack could still see it in his mind's eye.

_'Class, I'd like you to welcome Mr. E. Aster Bunnymund to our Burgess family.'_

_Messy blonde-brown beach hair streaked with grey that somehow worked for him, good god did it work, a with a face right out of young GQ, body toned and tanned from years of ongoing physical activity and luscious green eyes that the sun chose that EXACT moment to break through the clouds and illuminate like they were in some sort of sappy Disney movie..._

The general consensus then was 'pretty boy', a myth that Aster, (which he'd demanded everyone call him, because no one knew his first name except god and the front office), quickly dispelled two hours later by sucker punching Snot Jorgensen in his puggishly thick nose when the wannabe bad boy tried to shake Aster down for his Underarmour hoodie. 

A few more incidents like that revealed Aster had a temper like a solar flare and apparently, knew multiple forms of karate, which okay, _really_? Overkill much?

Jack crossed his right leg over his left and trapped his tongue between his teeth as his thoughts descended into Aster Land, and the movie theater of his mind began to play one of his favorite fantasies- Jack and the Aussie in the Locker Room. 

Yes, his daydreams had cheap porn titles. Problem _?_

_The steam from the showers curled lazily around their heads, matting their hair to their brows. Aster's tongue curled and swept a ticklish path along Jack's jawline while the taller boy forcefully stripped away his towel._

_'Oooh, Aster, n-not here... Ahh, s-somebody might seee...'_

_'Let 'em see, Luv.'_

They also had crappy hentai dialogue. Sue him, alright?

Mm, oh, damn. Maybe the slim fit skinny jeans were a bad call this morning. That would be an amazing invention- boner proof pants, for lonely hormone ridden teenage boys everywhere. He should try to get a patent, he'd make millions.

_'Ya like that, Jack? Tell me.'_

_'Y-yeah, oh- mmm-"_

_'Jack?'_

_'Yeah?'_

_'Jack.'_

"Jack!"

Wait a minute, Miss Womble wasn't in this episode. She wasn't in any of them, actually, unless you counted the few seconds she had a walk on roll in Jack and the Aussie in Detention.

_'Now I'm leaving to go do something conveniently important that will take a very long time. I don't want any horseplay in here boys, I'm serious.'_

_'Yes ma'am,' Aster grinned, shooting a darkly covetous look at Jack that made him squirm-_

"Jackson Overland!"

His pen slipped from between his lips and clattered onto his desk when he jumped, leaving a splatter of drool on the paper. Fully back in the present, Jack looked up to see Miss Womble half glaring at him along with the entire class, twisted around in their seats to watch him get chewed out, including-

_Oh crap he's looking at me, he's looking at me he's looking-_

Aster had turned around in his seat and was staring along with the rest of them. Jack felt his ears glow and tried to cover it by pretending to scratch his neck. Someone giggled.

"Y-yes, Miss W?" 

The teacher crossed her arms. "Am I boring you, Mr Overland? Or is the back of Aster's head simply that amazing?"

Well, if she really wanted the answer to that question...

More giggles, and Aster smirked. Jack actually thought his hair would catch fire. "N-no, ma'am. I'm sorry."

Damn mind theater.

Miss Womble's nostrils flared, and Jack swallowed. She wasn't letting him off the hook just yet. "Then would you mind answering the question?"

The question? There was a question? And not the one about the attractiveness of Aster's head?

Jack ignored the titters and stretched up in his seat to get a better look at the board. Every example except for 27 was done. 

_Imaginative square root of 36, times the slope of function A with the weight of 0.5..._

_Like snowflakes._

Click _._

"Uhm, 192i?" 

He knew he was right. Again, Miss Womble's mouth fluttered at the corners. "Correctamundo, sir. And please put more effort into paying attention from now on, Jack."

Jack slumped down in his seat, sighing in relief when everyone lost interest and stopped looking at him. "Yes, Miss W."

He scrubbed a cold hand over his face and picked up his pen again, but he still felt like he was being watched. Being a semi loner tended to give one a sort of sixth spider sense about being watched, in the event one was being hounded by a bully or something similar.

Jack peeked through his fingers, and his lungs temporally forgot how to function as he saw who was still looking at him. Aster was peering at him out the corner of his eye, and there was a strange expression in it, like he was sizing him up.

Jack looked down quickly at his lap, checking for remnants of his hard on, then back up before he could stop himself.

Was that _approval_ in that gorgeous green gaze?

Eventually he turned back around, leaving Jack near comatose until the bell finally rang. He had his stuff packed and in his arms before the second chime, blitzing out of the calculus room so fast he neglected to say goodbye to Miss Womble.

The rest of the day rushed past and crawled by all at once. He was standing in front of his locker before he knew it, texting his mother for her ETA on picking him up.

**< Mom, what's the deal?>**

He heard the footsteps approaching as he sent the message but didn't look up, figuring it was North or Sandy. 

"Oi."

 _Ohgodohgodohgod. It's your imagination, it's not real_.

"Yer name's Jack, roight?"

Needless to say, it wasn't North or Sandy. And he didn't know if that was good or bad.

Jack craned his neck upwards an inch at a time, praying that once his eyes caught up to the motion the potential to embarrass himself would be gone.

It wasn't.

"Uhhh..." Something misfired in his brain when he beheld the Star with a capital S of his mental films standing right in front of him, already changed for after school soccer practice and squinting at him, looking like the Nike God of teen sportswear.

Jack's throat sucked closed in the same instant he tried to speak, and he wound up gulping and gaping, scrambling for words that drifted around his brain like the last few Cheerios in the bowl.

"J-Jack," he squeaked finally. "I m-mean, yeah. Yeah. Jack Overland."

Aster nodded and shifted his bag more comfortably on his broad (delicious, _delicious, want it want it want it_ ) shoulder. "Yeah, ah thought so."

_Play it cool, Jack. Blizzard cool. Cool like a cucumber._

"D-did you want something?" Jack asked. He cleared his throat and crossed his ankles, lifting his chin and leaning against the dented metal of his locker. He was going for chill and collected, but he was sixty seven percent sure it just came off as unforgivably lame.

"Yeah, ah need yer number."

_Aaaand there goes the cool. Bye bye, cool! It was nice to know you..._

"W-wh _at?!"_ Jack choked, eyes widening to the size of blue China dinner plates. He literally felt his grey matter convulse and he was going to _die_ , yep, right there in hallway C, and his headstone would say  _Here lies Jack, who perished when E.A.B asked for his number._

Aster grinned, and those front teeth were just a little too long to be conventionally attractive, so why was it so adorable?

 _Maybe it's the dimples._ It was definitely the dimples. 

 _"_ Yer number? Ya know, yer cell digits?" Aster pulled an iPhone out of his sweatpants and handed it to Jack, showing him the unsaved group message on the screen. "Yer name is on tha soccer sign up fer Friday, yeah? We're starting' a Groupme fer updates."

"Oh. Oh." Jack breathed, reaching for the phone with a shaking hand. It was almost painfully warm. "Alright. S-sure." He bit his lip and entered his number, trying to regulate his breathing.

 _He smells like chocolate and hay and... Axe, and... paint?_ It should have been weird combination, but it wasn't. 

When he gave it back, their fingers brushed for a second and Jack's knees almost gave out.

"Thanks," Aster said, clearly not noticing what he was doing to him. "We'll let ya know if it gets canceled or sumthin'." He glanced up at Jack and crossed his arms. "'S cool yer givin' it a burl."

Jack nodded as mutely as Sandy, and Aster kept talking. "Yer pretty good at that math stuff. Ya might be able ta help us with tha play writing. M' terrible at it." He grimaced and shook his head. "Anyways. See ya Friday."

He started to turn away, and then Jack's brain thought it was a good idea to prolong his torment and blurt-

"Calculus is easy!"

Aster twisted back around, and Jack tried to spontaneously combust himself with no luck."I mean, uh, once you get the hang of it. It's not so bad after a while." he babbled, tugging hard on a tendril of white blonde hair. "I could help you, if you want. Like help you study sometime, I guess."

Aster's lips pulled up at the corners, and he shifted his weight to his back leg. "Ya reckon?"

Jack jerked his neck up and down a few times, deciding to commit to his crazy offer because _why the hell not, we're already here, might as well go big or go home_. "Yeah. The semester's about to end, but we can start next card marking."

The taller boy started to respond, but a commotion behind them made him pause. Over his shoulder, Jack saw the rest of the soccer team spilling out of the gym, toting exercise bags and impatient frowns. A slimmer one with dark hair and pointy features that Jack recognized as Tulio Ramon noticed them and waved to Aster. "E.A.B,  _tonto!_ C'mon fool, we're gonna be late! I'm not running suicides all day because of you!"

"Yeah man, hurry up!"

"Who even is that, dude...?"

Aster gave his eyes a healthy roll. "Don't get ya panties in a twist, ya wankers." he called. To Jack, he smirked one last time and raised a hand in farewell. "See ya, Jackie. Thanks again."

 _Did he just give me a nickname?_ Was that an Aussie thing, or an 'I'm secretly into you' thing?

Aster left after that. Jack watched him catch up with his teammates and vanish out of the gym door, himself still frozen against his locker. He wasn't exactly sure his heart was beating anymore because he couldn't feel it, but he figured _something_  had to have pumped all his blood into his ears and neck.

The whole exchange had only taken about five minutes, but he felt like twenty years had passed. He just had a real life conversation with the guy he'd been creeping on for a year and a half, who now had his number, and who he was apparently supposed to tutor effectively in a few weeks. While playing some form of soccer with him on a daily basis. 

And he STILL had yet to get all of this past his mother.

_Yeah, that'll work out._

Two hours after initiating it, and his plan was already spiraling out of control. Tooth was going to KILL him.

His phone vibrated in his death grip, shaking him out of his reverie. He tapped open the message icon and scanned it, totally having forgotten that he'd texted his mother.

**< Shifts been 2x, I'm sorry. Take the bus. Meet u in the waiting room. Love u.>**

Jack sighed and dropped his phone back into his jeans, rubbing hard at his eyebrow with a thin fingertip. His mom was on a double shift that night. With that and his blood work, he wouldn't be home until at least nine.

"So you play soccer now, huh, Jackson?"

The scowl was already forming on Jack's face by the time the second person sidled up to him, leering, much less welcome than the last occupant of the space.

"Koz," Jack greeted listlessly. "It's Jack, and I've told you that a million times."

Kozmotis was Sandy's little brother, a wire thin junior with slick black spikes for hair, pointed teeth and a strange grey pallor to his skin, the exact opposite of Sandy's golden cheerfulness.

He was always lurking in the shadows around the school in  all his Gothic finery, smoking cigarettes by the dumpsters and bullying the freshmen.

Kozmotis had been the type of annoying younger sibling that used to listen at the doors when they got together at his house and tattled if they said bad words.

Nobody really liked him, but his and Sandy's dad, Mr. Lunanoff, was the head principal, so their group tried to tolerate him for appearance sake in addition to having their pizza paid for on movie nights. 

Truthfully, he gave Jack the heebie jeebies, and he thought it completely unfair that Sandy was stuck with mutism while Kozmotis got to run his slimy mouth 24/7.

His pointed features disintegrated into a snarl, and Jack felt a twinge of childish satisfaction. "Don't call me that," he snapped. "I go by Pitch now. Pitch Black."

Jack snorted and narrowed his eyes at him incredulously. "What's that, your street name?" he asked dubiously, picking up his bag from the floor and making for the exit. "Is it supposed to impress the fourteen year olds?"

Kozmotis glared at him, and it would have been a little intimidating if not for the giant red zit beginning to swell on the bridge of his nose. "You don't know who my friends are, Jackson." Then, he bared his teeth in a sneering smile. "Saw you talking with Mr Popular earlier," he said suddenly, easily keeping pace with Jack's slightly (slightly, damn it, he was taller than both Tooth and Sandy and that was good enough,) shorter legs. "I thought we'd have to call the fire department to resuscitate you. You looked a little overwhelmed."

Jack's stomach turned a flip flop, but he kept his face even. "He caught me by surprise," he said, proud of himself that it came out so steady. "Who knows what a dumb jock might have to say at any given moment?"

In his mind, he apologized to the phantom Aster- boyfriend of his mental theater for the insult. 

"I'm sure," Kozmotis drawled, as Jack pushed open the door. "But seriously, Jackson. Soccer? There's got to be an easier way to scrounge for someone's attention, isn't there? It's _so_ desperate and, frankly, quite unoriginal."

Jack dug his teeth into his cheek and resisted the urge to tell Kozmotis to fuck off, knowing he'd get a detention faster than he could whistle the Hunger Games theme. "I don't know what you're talking about," he gritted out. The back of his neck prickled hotly with nerves.

Sandy wouldn't have told Kozmotis about him being gay, or crushing on E.A.B. He was probably just guessing, but it was still worrying that he was that close to the truth.

He decided to go on the offensive. "Did anyone ever tell you that you talk like a shitty Shakespeare sitcom?" he bit out scathingly. "Honestly. Leave little old me be. I think I see your daddy's Mercedes waiting for you."

Kozmotis's chuckle was more of a growl. "See you later then, 'Jackie'," he spat, finally turning tail. 

Jack watched him go with a tiny shudder, vowing to sneak pink hair dye in Kozmotis's shampoo the next time he was over Sandy's.  _Creep._ And he'd be having a chat with Sandy about leaving his phone where his brother could find it.

He straightened his hoodie, untangled his ear buds from the knot they'd twisted themselves into in his pocket, and sprinted over to join the line of kids piling onto the bus. 

The opening cords to the first song in the Great Gatsby playlist (Best. Movie. Soundtrack. EVER) floated into his ears as he paid his fee and hunkered down into the first seat his knees brushed, flipping his hood up and leaning against the damp, sticky window before drawing his knees up to his chest and letting his mind wander while the vehicle coughed to a start beneath and around him, beginning a soothing sort of rambling rumble downtown.


	3. The Family

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Extra extra extra late, for which I have no excuse. Sorry!
> 
> Quick side notes: Jamie is Jack's little brother in this, and not related to Sophie AT ALL. She comes in later-can you guess where? Also, new tags.

Regular post school fatigue and leftover strain from emotional duress- hey, making a blubbering fool out of yourself in front of your crush really took it out of you- helped lull Jack into a light doze despite his less than comfortable position and the constant shaking and rocking of the bus. He probably would have missed his stop completely if not for the raving, rabid kindergartner that sped past his seat and jostled him hard enough to send his phone toppling to the floor, snatching his ear buds out of his head in a startling rush of outside noise and absence.

 He shot upright with an ugly snort and blinked around at his surroundings with confusion, watching people stream pass him in slow motion. By the time his brain rebooted, the lighted sign above the drivers seat was showing the stop AFTER his, and the doors were beginning to hiss slowly closed.

Alarm shot through Jack's veins like ice water, and he scrambled to his feet faster than if he'd been electrocuted, bag and phone dangling precariously from his grip as he booked it down the aisle. "Wait wait wait wait IgottagetoffhereWAIT!"

Being able to fall asleep anytime and anywhere was a side effect of his anemia, more often a curse than a blessing.

Like right then, for example.

The bus driver leveled a mock dirty look at him and hit the switch to the doors again, stopping them from sealing all the way. "Third time this week, Jack." she observed. "Start staying awake, or I'll let the fifth graders draw nasty things on your face."

Jack pulled a face and grinned rougishly back, jumping down the steps backwards and two at a time, exactly the way he knew scared the crap out of her. He'd been riding the same bus route for years, ever since his mother's car was repossessed when he was seven. "Aw, Miss Elena. I'm so glad to know you care about little ol' Jack."

"Get off my bus, hooligan," she huffed, unable to completely hide a smirk in the high collar of her navy blue jacket. "And tell your mother I said hello."

Jack tippped an invisible hat at the old woman and skipped off the final step into the street, pausing to fit one bud back into his ear and adjust his bag more securely on his shoulder before starting his two block hike.

It was nearing the middle of February. Winter was just beginning to loosen its icy chokehold on Virginia, about which Jack was actually a little disappointed. He loved winter and the season specific fun it brought- days out of school, playing in the snow with his siblings, etcetera.

Christmas was lower on his importance list than some people's, due the Overlands-turned-Bennetts (and then back to Overlands, after Jamie's father so gracelessly skipped out, the jackass) always having struggled to make the holiday happen financially, but on the plus side, Jack's mother was home a lot more.

Deeper than that, though, warmer seasons had never been very kind to Jack. While all the other kids would race outside the very first time the temperature broke 50, Jack's condition had always kept him indoors, chilled and frail and freakish. Cold weather gave him an excuse for needing two sweaters at all times, and let him blame his staying home from school on midwinter slump instead of the real reason being that he'd been too weak to get out of bed that morning.

Already there was a faint moist aroma and undercurrent of wet warmth seeping out of the slowly melting snowbanks clinging to the sides of the road, but the breeze that crawled up and through Jack's coat was still frigid. He shuddered and yanked his threadbare skullcap down lower over his glowing ears, cramming his hands deeper into his hoodie and quickening his feet until the red and white cross on the front of Burgess's one and only major hospital loomed around the corner.

He trotted into the building and was greeted by all the nurses he came across on his way to D wing, most of them having known him since he was a toddler. When times were hardest some of his meals had come from the vending machines by the cafeteria and he'd napped in the break rooms, checked on every few minutes by the orderlies to make sure he hadn't been hurt or kidnapped.

Jack pulled his phone out and glanced at the time, chewing pensively on his lower lip. His appointment was at 4:00... he had a few minutes to stop in. Dr. Ashaya wouldn't mind.

Once he got on the elevator, he rode it all the way up to the trauma ward instead of stopping at level three. As soon as the doors opened, he swept his blue eyes around the buzzing waiting room and felt his lips instantly curl into a grin at the sight of a headful of messy brown hair bent intently over the tiny coffee table in the corner.

Jack ducked behind an errant cart and cupped his hands around his mouth. He tightened his throat, making his voice a passable impression of his mother's angry tone. " _Jameson Bennett-Overland! You are in big trouble, young man!"_

The head containing the chocolate mop shot up immediately, revealing the bewildered face of a seven year old boy. He glanced frantically about the place, until Jack couldn't contain his laughter and stepped out from behind the cart into his field of vision. The little boy pouted and crossed his arms, but couldn't prevent a bubbling giggle from escaping. "You tricked me! I thought you were really mom and she was mad!"

He darted over, and Jack chuckled as he was enveloped in a waist height hug. "Why? Did you do something she would have been mad about?" 

His brother released him and rolled his eyes, one brown iris a little cloudier than the other. When Jack ruffled his hair, the hearing aid curled over his left ear became visible. "Not that I remember getting caught for. But I put glue in Robbie Smith's chair today- he was being mean to a girl. It was when he went to the bathroom, so he didn't see me."

"Sounds like a worthy cause, then. Good work." Jack grinned, slapping him a high five. "Maybe one of these days you'll be a prankster exraordinaire like me."

Jamie beamed at him, showing off the gap in his smile from a tooth he'd lost, and Jack's heart gave a warm squeeze. He loved his little brother fiercely, always had and always would.

Jamie wasn't anemic, but he'd had his own problems early in life- reoccuring and painful cataracts in his eye, and a condition having to do with his inner ear tubes not being fully formed at birth. The kid had already had seven surgeries, one for every year of his life, but despite his issues he was the most kindhearted person Jack knew.

Jack put a hand on his back and steered him over to the coffee table where Jamie's things were scattered. "Where's mom?"

Jamie jumped back into his ottoman and shrugged. "I dunno. She told me to wait for you here."

"Are you doing your homework?" Jack asked mock seriously, and Jamie nodded with a touch of exasperation. "Yeah."

Jack leaned over and plucked what looked like the beginnings of a handmade card from the pile of papers on the table. "This looks nice, what is- ohhhh, it's got a heart on it. Oh my." He snickered and jerked it out of Jamie's reach when the boy went red and tried to snatch it back. "Oh dear, is it a love note?"

"Give it, Jack!"

"Who's it for?" Jack demanded, grinning even as Jamie glared. "Come on, tell me, or I'm telling Tooth it's for a girl. You know she'll freak."

Jamie blanched. "Not her! Not Tooth, come on Jack-"

"I'm reaching for my phoooone-"

"ALRIGHT, alright!" Jamie huffed. "It's for school. We have to make a Valentine's day card for somebody in class."

"You picked Cupcake?" Jack guessed, and Jamie shook his head no. "Uh uh. Sophie. She's the girl that Robbie was teasing."

Jack cocked an eyebrow and pursed his lips. He knew all the little kids in the community from babysitting them all at least once (small town, recall) and he didn't remember any Sophie. 

"She's new," Jamie continued. "She came from another school this year. She's got a really long last name that I don't remember, and she talks a little funny, kinda like she's got caramel in her mouth." He scrunched up his nose into a frown. "Robbie said he would cut her ponytail off if she didn't talk normal, so I put glue in his chair to teach him a lesson. She can't help the way she talks, and her hair is pretty." He seemed to realize what he'd just said, because he blushed a fiery red and backpedalled for all he was worth. "I-I mean..."

Jack laughed and nudged him affectionately. "Relax, Casanova. I won't tell about your little crush." He was glad Jamie was showing an interest in girls, ecstatic actually. He wasn't ashamed of his preference, because that was _so_ 2009, but the last thing he wanted was for Jamie to go through the nerve wracking secrecy he did just to avoid homophobic slurs and attention. Sure he could have come out publicly a long time ago, but it was easier just to fade indiscriminately into the background, letting people make their own assumptions. 

Unless of course it came out that Mr Sun Surf And Soccer Turf batted for his team...then he'd rent a skywriter and spell it out across the pure blue sky in rainbow smoke, JACKSON OVERLAND IS FRUITY AND FREE, AUSSIES **ONLY** NEED APPLY.

"-caught a weird bug when we went outside for science class. Caleb said it was from south America, but I don't know if I believe that- Jack? You okay?"

 Jack blinked and looked down to see Jamie staring at him with concern. He pinked a little across his cheekbones. He hadn't realized he'd zoned out again. "Y-yeah, buddy, sorry."

"Is your iron low?" Jamie asked quickly, and Jack had to smile at the open worry in his eyes. "I'm fine, Jamie. Just thinking about something."

The little boys frown faded, as did the crease between his eyes. "Alright."

"Jack?"

They both turned around in their seats to see their mother coming down the hall, removing a stained surgical mask so she could speak. She looked the same as she always did, a young woman of thirty five, long hair the same color as Jamie's tied back into a low bun and clad in hospital scrubs a size too large. Her posture was slouched with exhaustion and her blue eyes were circled by bags, but the tiny lines in her forehead and around her mouth crinkled and smoothed into a glowing smile when she caught sight of them. 

Sarah Overland had worked at Burgess General for years, after Jack's father hit the road when she found out she was pregnant. She'd gone back to school and gotten a nursing degree and a secure job, which helped a lot when one had a brood of slightly disabled children.

Still, the hours were long and gruelling, and the pay was not fantastic, and she was bone tired and stressed out more often than not. Sometimes Jack felt just a little ashamed of himself for being so delicate and unable to help out more, and though he admired his mother, he also felt sorry for her. They'd never be rich, which he knew was partly his fault, and she'd consistently drawn the short straw when it came to the Healthy Kid Lottery- first him, then Jamie...and...

And Emma.

Wrestling down the sharp stab of pain from almost thinking about his sister, Jack embraced his mother and was enveloped in her usual scent of antibiotics, latex and that always constant, unidentifiable mom smell that never failed to chase the tension from his muscles. 

"How was school, honey?" Sarah asked, vainly trying to smooth down a few errant stands of his snowy blonde hair.

Jack ducked out from under her hand and shrugged. "The usual, I guess."

You know, aside from signing up for a sport that could potentially hospitalize him. Again.

_Christ, she's gonna kill me._

"I have good news," Sarah said brightly. "Your aunt lent me some money to get the old car back from the repo office. You won't have to take the bus for the next few weeks, at least until I take it to the shop to get it checked out."

"Awesome, mom."

"Jamie, Dr. Kennedy wants to check your ears a little bit and make sure that itchiness isn't infection." Sarah said, turning to her youngest. Jamie pulled a face, but he nodded resignedly. "Ugh. Fine."

Sarah's expression turned shrewd in the face of Jamie's not so enthusiastic response. "If you're a little happier about it, I'll consider Chinese takeout for dinner afterwards."

Jamie immediately brightened. "Really?!"

"Maybe, when we leave. Speaking of which, Mr, you are late for your appointment," she said, giving Jack a light shove towards the elevator. "Ashaya just paged me asking where you were."

"I'm going." Jack held up his hands in surrender and made his way over to the elevator. When the doors opened, he stepped inside, but waited until they were closing again to stick his head out and stop them. "Oh, hey, mom?"

"What?"

Jack smiled his best sweetly shit eating grin. "I signed up for soccer today." He moved back quickly and let the elevator door slide shut, but not before he saw pure shock cross her face.

"JACKSON-!"

Then the doors closed, and he didn't hear anything other than the lilting tunes of elevator music. Almost a breath later, his phone chimed with a new message that made him groan when he read it.

**< We WILL be talking about this as SOON as you're out.>**

_Craaaap..._ The text was perfectly grammatical and signed with multiple angry face emojis...apparently she hadn't appreciated his spontaneous style.

* * *

 

"Jackson," Dr Ashaya greeted him at the door of the blood lab, with a smile and a gentle pat on the shoulder. He was a fatherly Indian man who Jack babysitted for frequently-his daughter Shanti was the cutest thing-and he'd been Jack's primary physician for as long as he could remember. He called him Dr Dracula, or Vlad, but never to his face. "It's good to see you."

Jack nodded and slithered a little unhappily out of his hoodie. It was warm in the lab, but even still he shivered when the body heat warmed fabric left his skin. He settled down into one of the padded chairs.

"How are we today, Jack?" Ashaya asked, and Jack gave him the customary shrug. "Still me."

"Are you taking your iron supplements?"

"Yeah."

"No issues eating, defecating or urinating?"

Jack blushed and squirmed. He was familiar with all of this, but that question never failed to make him uncomfortable. He failed to see why being anemic would make it hard to drop a bomb. "No."

"Nausea? Vision troubles? Chest pains?" Ashaya pressed. Jack shook his head, and the doctor put down his clipboard. "Well, good. I'll take a quarter of a pint from you today so we can monitor your blood cell count."

"I vant to suck your blood..." Jack muttered, rolling up his sleeves and turning his arms upwards so that his bright blue and green veins popped up through his paper white skin, clearly visible. 

Dr Ashaya attached one long needle to a thin rubber tube and a collection bag, and the other to an IV filled with clear liquid- saline solution, and something else to keep him from getting dehydrated. Jack didn't flinch, didn't blink as the first needle slid into his flesh, easily finding a home in his pronounced vein.

"Shanti's been asking about you," the doctor said in a conversational tone, while he prepped the second needle. "She went with her mother on a business trip to Dubai, but she was asking me when she could come back so you can sit with her again."

Jack smirked faintly. The other one went in just as easily, and he felt just like that villain from Batman, the one with tubes in his arms and toxin in his blood. He could feel the drain already, a slow, crawling, sucking sensation, like his very life was being siphoned. Soon enough, thin droplets of pinkish liquid began to stream unimpressively through the transluscent hose, collecting in the bag.

Ashaya stepped back. "If you start feeling faint or sick in any way, yell."

"Been around this block a couple times, Doc. I think I'm good." Jack told him, only half jokingly. Ashaya only nodded and exited, closing the door quietly behind him and leaving Jack alone with the softly beeping machines, whirring as they marked his red blood cell count and oxygen levels and charted everything else that he'd never understand about what was wrong with him.

He could already feel the drowsiness creeping up on him and settling in his cells. Moving slowly so he didn't tear out the needles, he put his music back in and boosted the volume up to maximum strength, hoping that would keep him awake and stave off the strange dreams that always plagued him. 

It didn't work. It never worked, but he never stopped trying. Despite the deep bass thundering away in his head, Jack's eyelids drew together with each breath until eventually slipping closed. He slumped down further in his chair as awareness gave way to flickering bursts of colour and memory, not quite sleep but not quite wakefulness, either.

_He was trying to give his three year old brother a piggy back ride, like Thomas had done to his little sister earlier, but Jamie was heavy heavy heavy and all of a sudden Jack's legs gave out and Jamie was screaming, screaming because the back of his head was cut and blood was coming out-_

_A sweater and a jacket and long pants and long shirt and Jack was still cold, still freezing, and the heat was off and the phone was ringing and it was cold cold cold-_

_Mom was crying and Rick was yelling, loud and angry, Jack was cooking dinner but he didn't remember picking up the skillet, didn't remember swinging it, but he did remember how Rick's yells turned into pained screams-_

_Hiccup was the boy down the road with the big black dog named Toothless that always knocked Jack over when they played. Hiccup loved chapstick, always put it on before he went outside. Jack was in seventh grade when he caught himself looking at Hiccup's lips and thinking about how soft they had to be, how pretty and pink. He was still in seventh grade when he kissed Hiccup in the coatroom at school, and when Hiccup told him he liked Astrid, and Jack felt his heart break-_

_'Yaaack,' Emma giggled, little square teeth and plump cheeks and pudgy hands. 'Yaaack, yack...'_

_Jack..._

"Jack? Wake up, son. We're finished."

Jack pried his eyes open with all the effort in the world and watched blearily as Dr Ashaya disconnected the tubes from his arms. The alcohol on the cotton balls burned mutedly as he patted them in the crease of his elbow. The machines were turned off. He was tired. He was cold.

_You're always cold._

"Jack," Ashaya started gently. "Your mother is waiting for you downstairs."

Jack shuddered and planted his hands on the armrests of his chair, feeling his muscles protest as he pushed himself laboriously to his feet. 

"Do you need-?"

"N-no." He didn't mean to snap, but he didn't need help. _He didn't._

He left the lab without any assistance, staggering to the elevator and needing two tries before he pushed the button in far enough. He felt nauseous as it sank, every movement echoed in his guts and head. Sweat dripped into his eyes and made the underside of his arms prickle.

Sarah was waiting for him with a frown, but it softened into a look of pity and anguish when she beheld his sorry state. Wordlessly, she helped him off the elevator, out the building and into the parking lot, Jamie holding his hand on his other side.

On instinct, he started to veer towards the abandoned bus stop. Sarah nudged him away and towards the handicapped area. She did it gently, but he still stumbled and nearly fell.

When they reached the vehicle, he barely had enough energy to climb over the empty car seat that no one ever removed. Jamie buckled his seatbelt and climbed in next to him, pillowing his small head on Jack's bony shoulder.

Sarah started the engine and pulled off silently towards home. Jack was asleep in seconds, and this time he didn't dream at all.


End file.
